


Something Sweet

by GoingtoHeavenClarence



Series: Sweet Someone [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bathroom Sex, Candy, Dead Guy Robe, Death of reader's family, Eventual Smut, F/M, Female Hunters, Food, Grace Kink, Grace-Powered Orgasms, Hinted Castiel/Dean Winchester - Freeform, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I'm not responsible for canon spoilers, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Men of Letters Bunker, Nicknames, Oral Sex, POV Original Female Character, Post-Season 11, Reader-Insert, References to Norse Religion & Lore, Sex and Chocolate, Shower Sex, Wing Kink, You might ride the feels train, cis female reader, fluffy fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-11
Updated: 2016-10-22
Packaged: 2018-08-14 12:23:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8013682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoingtoHeavenClarence/pseuds/GoingtoHeavenClarence
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After many years apart from your friends, the Winchesters, you discover you are a Woman of Letters. You also find an unexpected treat during your visit to the MOL bunker.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

You are a bundle of nerves as your pick-up lurches past a sign that reads "Welcome to Lebanon Kansas, the center of the 48 states". You don't know why you are so uneasy, you've fought things that go bump in the night for as long as you can remember, but this whole "Men of Letters" thing was new and complex. Monsters, you could handle, but secret societies with mysterious headquarters put you on edge. 

You take a deep breath, assuring yourself in the comfort that you aren't meeting up with complete strangers. It has been years since you have seen the infamous Winchester brothers. Your paths haven't crossed since you were young and still hunting with your mom. The last time you saw Sam he was a mop headed middle schooler, always with his nose in a book, but he had a kindness about him that you admired. He was like the little brother you never knew you wanted until he was gone from your life.

Your mind wanders to thoughts of the older Winchester. Dean was a couple years younger than you, but that never stopped him from treating you like you were made of glass. You kicked ass with the best of them, but Dean's protective instincts made it difficult to hunt with him. He was smooth, confident and flirted relentlessly with just about anyone, as long as they were both sexy and on two legs. He had to grow up fast and take on the horrors of this world at such a young age. You never begrudged him for getting out there, blowing off steam and trying to be a "normal" teenager.

Driving through the small town doesn't take long. You put your truck in park near the front of the seemingly abandoned power plant. You pull out your phone and pull up "Sam W" in your contacts and hit 'call' to let them know you are here. 

"Hey! Where are you at?"

"Right outside, I told you I wouldn't call until I arrived."

"Well, you made great time! We will be right out."

Your door opens with a creak and you give yourself a mental pat down. You can never be too careful, even though you are pretty damn sure this is all the real deal.

Granddad's Colt service pistol tucked in your waistband (check)  
Silver knife in boot (check)  
Flask of holy water (check)

You lean against the driver's side door, check your teeth in the side mirror and brush a stray hair from your face. You have driven halfway across the country in one shot and suddenly the lack of sleep catches up with you. 

"I see you're losing your reflexes in your old a--"

Suddenly, your pistol is aimed between a pair of apple green eyes. 

"Whoa, whoa!" Dean gives an apologetic smirk as you lower your gun, replacing it in your waistband. 

"Figured you would know better than to sneak up me, even after all these years," you tease as he pulls you into his chest. 

Dean has definitely grown up, his shoulders are broader, his features defined and refined. He had boyish, good looks back in the day, but that pales in comparison to the man he has become. He has aged like a fine wine or maybe more like a smooth whiskey. 

He gives a chaste, brotherly kiss on the top of your head and pats you on the back. You smile at the familiarity and it takes you back to the times spent at Bobby's when you and the boys had fleeting moments where your lives seemed normal and you were family. 

"I'm so glad you are here."

"You don't just need my help with your super secret society?" you gently elbow his ribs.

"I mean it," he looks into your eyes "we've lost a lot of people over the years and the fact that you are alive is, well, awesome".

You think of John, Ellen, Jo, Bobby (who was as much of a father as you ever had) and all the other people that you have lost during all these wars and uprisings involving Angels and demons and all sorts of evil. You were lucky to be alive, but it wasn't without a price.

"Awesome? I see your vocabulary hasn't expanded much in the past 20 years," you smile through a little sting behind your eyes.

"You ready to check out the Bat Cave?"

"As I'll ever be," you take a deep breath.

Dean leads the way down a short set of concrete stairs to a heavy metal door surrounded by an arc of bricks. He opens the door, gesturing for you to hurry through. 

Your feet carry you in and you nearly stumble, catching yourself on the railing as you overlook what has to be the coolest fucking thing you have ever seen. This place is both trapped in time and still looks like it was built yesterday. You glance around the grand front room to see a large table covered in a world map and some sort of large equipment that might be an old computer or something.

"You were right about the Bat-Cave thing, Dean!"

"Oh, you ain't seen nothing, yet," grabbing your hand as you both bound down the stairs like a couple of kids on Christmas morning (not that either of you really ever had that experience).

You fly through what can only he described as a war room into a room that is all bricks, columns, wood and books. You feel instantly at home as your run your fingers across the spines of ancient tomes and breathe in the smell of old paper and leather. 

Time spent in a library was a favorite memory of your youth. Yes, that is nerdy as hell, but you always felt safe in the stacks, thumbing through the lore. Every once in a while, finding a secluded corner where you could curl up with a book and a bar of chocolate and get lost for a few hours in a fantasy world where the monsters weren't real and heroes always saved the day. 

You start to poke around in a large wooden filing cabinet when your hear your name uttered behind you, as if it were a question.

You spin on your heel, nearly bumping face first into flannel. You look up higher than expected and exclaim "Little Sammy!"

"I didn't like that nickname then, but I guess I got the last laugh in the height department, right?" He wraps you in a squishy hug and lifts you off the ground. 

Back in the day, you edged Sam out in height by about a half inch and it had been a running joke that you could share a wardrobe with the wiry kid. That certainly was no longer the case and you realize how much you must have missed avoiding the pair for many years. 

"Still have a gorgeous head of hair, I see," you go up on your tip toes and attempt to ruffle his ridiculously soft locks. You make a mental note to figure out what products he uses because you cannot fathom how your hair is a humidity laced frizz ball and he looks like a walking shampoo commercial.

Sam pulls out a chair at one of the library tables and insists that you sit back and relax.

"You've been driving all day, can I get you anything to drink?"

"Hmm," you twist your mouth in thought, "I'd love a beer if you have any."

"Of course we do," Dean laughs. "You two sit, I got it!"

Sam plants himself in the chair across the table next to a closed laptop.

"So tell me about what you two have been up to? I know bits and pieces through the hunter network but obviously I have laid low, well, since I lost my mom."

"We're gonna need something harder than a pale ale if you wanna hear the whole story," Dean walks in, beer bottles in hand, "Sammy hit a dog with his car at one point, and that's the most ordinary part of the story!"

Sam casts a bitch face at his older brother who props his feet up on the table and takes a long sip of his beer, glancing away in mock innocence. 

"Do I need to bring up exploding Dick, Dean?" Sam raises an eyebrow.

They continue to throw insults and inside jokes at one another as you finish your first beer and reach for a second.

"Okay boys, I am both intrigued, amused and perplexed," your stomach groans audibly "and apparently starving."

"Give me like a half hour and I can whip something up." Dean pushes his chair from the table.

"Wait, wait? The kid who gladly lived on food from Gas n Sip is now "whipping up" meals?"

"Hey, I am more than a pretty face!", his laughter fades as he heads to the kitchen.

Sam gives you a brief rundown of life up until the point when John died making a deal with a demon, trading his life for Dean's.

"I should have called or something", shaking your head, exasperated by the fear that kept you from contacting them for so long. 

"Azazel took plenty from you, too, I understand why you kept away from us. Hell," Sam reaches for your hand "you probably wouldn't still be alive if you had met up with us at any point in the last decade."

"Yeah, our track record with the women in our lives is total shit", Dean walks in the room, arms full of plates topped with what look like the best burgers in the world.

You break from story time and dig in to the most delicious, non-dessert food that you have ever tasted. 

You close your eyes and don't even realize the pornographic sounds you make with each juicy bite. 

"You need us to give you some time alone with that burger?" Sam asks, only half joking.

"I've been living on garbage road food. This is fucking amazing, I would marry this cheeseburger!" 

Dean beams with pride as you clink your beer bottles together, "Told you I could cook!"

Sam clears your empties and your plates and Dean settles back in the chair next to you.

"Where did Sam leave off? We should probably finish catching up tonight if we want to get down to the business at hand tomorrow."

"In the hospital."

"Which time, you gotta be more specific," he breathes out a short chuckle.

"With your dad, Azazel, the reaper, a talking board".

"Oh," he pauses, absently touching his tongue to his teeth, "Well, that was just the start of the crazy, if you ask me".

Dean starts going through the highlights as you listen to tales of demon deals, visits to hell, and crazy run-ins with creatures you didn't even know existed. 

 

Sam walks in after presumably cleaning up the kitchen and Dean loudly adds, "Oh and one time, Sammy got love potioned and married his number one fan!"

"I don't want to talk about it, Becky totally pulled a "Misery" on me," Sam crosses his arms and looks up to the ceiling.

You are, at once, horrified and stifling laughter.

"Hey, at least you never consummated your fake marriage!" Dean hands Sam a couple fingers of much needed whiskey.

Now that the pair are together they jump in one after another to fill you in on the Road So Far. They finish each other's sentences and don't always remember things the same way, but it is fun to watch these two getting along after all these years. Even though they've literally been to hell and back.

"So you guys are friends with an Angel named Castiel, you've been pals with the "King" of hell and you know God? Like THE God? And he has a sister?"

"Yeah, and Sam got kidnapped by a British lady."

"Dude, there's more to it than that, but here's the real kicker. After God and his sis went on vacation--" Sam is interrupted as the bunker door closes.

"Mom, we didn't expect you back until tomorrow!" Dean runs up to grab a duffel bag from the beautiful blond woman, dressed in layers á la Winchester.

"Did he really just say what I think he did?" you ask Sam in a punctuated whisper as you rise from your chair and steady yourself against the table. 

"That's what I was about to tell you," he smiles.

"Hi, I'm Mary Winchester, so happy you are here with us," she squeezes you tight and rubs your back giving you what can only be described as a "mom hug", melting away the initial jolt of meeting someone you knew to be dead for over three decades. 

Dean pours another round and the trio explains the rest of the story. Thoughts swirl through your mind, mixing with whiskey and shock. Resurrection seems to be a theme with these Winchesters, but it doesn't make it any less astonishing.

Mary notices your eyelids growing heavy and shows you to a spartan, but comfortable room. She takes your truck keys and let's you know that one of the boys will bring in your bag. You kick off your boots, stash your weapons on the side table and flop on to the first sleeping surface in years that isn't a shitty hotel bed or the cab of your truck.

As much as your mind races with information overload, your body has other plans and you sink into the mattress, sleeping well into mid-morning.

***

You awake to a soft knock at the door.

"Come in," you mumble, sitting up as you wipe the sleep from your eyes.

"Hey, sleepy! There's only one Summer Solstice a year, we should get started soon," Sam leans against the door frame with a cup of coffee in hand.

"Is that for me? Please let it be for me."

"Of course," he hands you the warm mug.

"Mm, two sugars, you remembered! Where can a girl get a shower around here?" you ask between blissful, caffeinated sips.

"Just down the hall, there are fresh towels in there, breakfast is ready whenever you are", Sam pats his thigh distractedly and exhales, "I will leave you to it!"

You hear Dean shout from the kitchen, "and keep your hands off my robe!"

"No one wants your Dead Guy robe, Dean!" you hear Sam as he fades further from the room.

You quickly shower and shuffle back to your room to get dressed. You pull on a well worn t-shirt and jeans and head to the kitchen while still towel drying your hair. A wall of delicious hits you, the smell of bacon, eggs and something sweet wafts through the air.

Dean hands you a plate, "Eat up! Sam says you will be pretty busy cataloging documents and other treasures once you help us open up that box!"

"Careful Dean, between the food and the water pressure, you might not be able to get rid of me when this is all through!"

"That water pressure is MARVELOUS, right?" he grins taking a big bite of bacon.

You cover your pancakes in real maple syrup and savor every bite. This is your second home cooked meal in as many days and you are going to enjoy it while you can. You help Dean clean up after breakfast, much to his protest, after arguing that you should at least earn your keep as long as he is feeding you. 

It is approaching close to noon when the three Winchesters lead you to a large file room. Sam pulls out a heavy wooden box and sets it on a bare metal table. It is carved with Norse symbols and designs, you run your fingers over the knots and dragon heads and a shiver rolls down your spine.

"It's beautiful," you sigh, wondering what has come over you.

"Yeah, lovely, but it's the one thing in this whole damn bunker we are unable to open," Dean scoffed.

"Dean wanted to crack it open with more force, but according to the files, the box needs to remain intact and opened with the key or the contents are forever lost." Sam explains handing you a folder with your grandfather's name typed neatly in the upper right-hand corner.

"No pressure, huh?" you laugh nervously, flipping through the pages.

You run your hands over the photo your granddad, looking young and polished. You knew he was a war hero and a friend to hunters, but you just recently learned that he was a Man of Letters. You didn't have much left of him, as he passed away when you were still in elementary school. The most precious object you had of his was his service pistol. It always meant the world to you and when your mother died, it became yours and rarely left your person. According to the file, there is a small key hidden behind a panel of the pistol's handle. 

"I can't believe I never noticed this," you shake your head as you pull the gun from your back pocket, running your finger over the panel with the small carving you now know as a Men of Letters symbol.

"We going to stand here all day being wistful or are we gonna crack this puppy open?" Dean rubs his hands together.

Mary tilts her head and gives the exasperated mom-look to Dean as she hands you a small screw driver. You carefully remove the panel of the gun that feels as much a part of you as your own hands. Inside is a small, round, wood carving that looks like a juncture in a small knot.

"Care to do the honors?" you reach out with the trinket nestled in the middle of your palm.

"Hell, yes!" he doesn't hesitate to pluck it from your hand as his eyes sparkle with anticipation.

He finds the small circular cutout in the box and presses the "key" in place with his thumb. The four of you instinctively step back, holding your breath in anticipation.

Moments pass and nothing happens, you all exchange disappointed glances.

"Sonofabitch," Dean mutters as he turns the circle in every possible way in an attempt to crack the seal, but the stupid box just sits there like a giant, Viking paperweight.

"I'm so sorry," you slide down the wall, pull your knees to your chest and hang your head. 

"Hey, you have nothing to be sorry for, we did exactly what the file said to do, maybe we are just missing a step." Sam was always good at making you feel better, even when he was a kid. You are happy to see the younger Winchester hadn't outgrown that trait.

"Well, according to lore, this can only be unlocked on the summer solstice, so unless you all want to sit and pout until next year, we should get crackin' on this," Dean extends a hand and pulls you to your feet. You glance at the box with worry before heading back to the library.

***  
After a few hours poring over the research and coming up with a whole lot of nothing, you need to step away and clear your head. You hit up the washroom first to splash cold water on your face in an attempt to shock your numb mind into a more wakeful state. You look in the mirror and can see granddad staring back at you. You have his eyes. You imagine his tough, but somehow soft demeanor and him guiding you to the answer you seek. You laugh to yourself as you can picture him telling you to "pull your head out of your ass or you'll never see the sunshine." He would know exactly how to fix this problem, there wasn't a puzzle he couldn't solve or anything broken that couldn't be repaired in his eyes. 

You wipe a stray tear from your cheek as you repeat your mantra, "Granddad could fix it."

But he isn't here, all that's left of him is that gun and its mysterious key and that apparently amounts to squat when it comes to opening this all-important box. You pass your room, with a desire to climb under the covers and hide from this quandary. Instead, you head towards the file room. It's like you can feel the delicately carved dragons carved laughing at you and your failure. You wrack your brain, digging for clues in your memories, grasping for something that might flip a switch and make any damn sense.

Then it hits you like a lead balloon.

***

August 1986

Your mother sits in a chair next to the hospital bed. Dark circles under her eyes, she hasn't slept in days but is finally drifting into a light sleep.

You cover her in a thin blanket and return to the other side of the bed to hold your granddad's hand. A hand, once strong and calloused from a life of hard work is now soft, skin delicate as crepe paper and bruised from too many IV pokes.

Mom says it won't be long now, "he's fought the good fight" as she says, but it doesn't ease your pain. 

He stopped eating a few days ago and hasn't had a drop to drink this morning. 

The doctor says it won't be long and they are keeping him comfortable. They say he's in something called hospice care and you know that really just means it's the end of the line. You may be barely 10 years old, but granddad was never one to bullshit you. 

You whisper a prayer to a god you've never believed in to explain why this is happening and why a man of such courage, wit and strength goes out like this? What is even left when he is gone? 

Granddad gives your hand a squeeze and though it is a light touch, it makes you jump as he hasn't been very responsive today. His breathing is shallow and ragged and his eyes, the same color as yours, tell you, in a look, to come closer. 

You stand and lean down as he whispers in your ear.

"You, my dear girls," his eyes gesture to your sleeping mother, "are my legacies,"

You lean in to kiss his bald head and tears stream down your face, he has never looked so small to you until this moment. 

His breathing slows as he speaks his last words 

"mine kunnskapens nøkler bor i deg."

***

You tried your best to remember the words to ask your mother but she didn't speak more than a word or two of Norwegian and as far as she knew, granddad hadn't since he was very young. You finally dug into a Norwegian-English dictionary at the library a few months after he passed. Your attempt at translation came up with something about the keys of his knowledge living in you. You always thought it was just him wanting to remember what he'd taught you and your mother but you remember him using the word "legacy". Now, as a "Woman of Letters", that word has a different meaning.

You almost run back to the library to tell Mary and the boys that you might have solved the puzzle, but you don't want to feed any false hopes. 

You trace your index finger along the curves of wood and you feel a warmth wash over your body. You reach the small button of wood that has been a stowaway in your gun forever. You push lightly with your thumb and the box begins to hum and glow. A flash of light envelopes the room and you shield your eyes as you stumble back to the doorway. 

As you turn to run down the hallway, you hear a strange rustle behind you. You curse yourself for not having any weapons on you as Sam told you the bunker was safe and warded. You lock eyes with a handsome, but most likely, dangerous stranger. He looks back at the, now open, box and extends a hand.

"The name's Loki and you must be the descendant of Freyja," for some reason you are drawn to him. His face looks smooth and dewy, his eyes seem to be backlit by a keen passion as they penetrate your very soul. You feel yourself practically hover closer to him as you offer your hand. He whispers, "enchanté" and gently kisses your knuckles. It is corny as hell, but strangely endearing. 

You break from his trance, "A descendent of who, again?" 

You freeze for a moment and call out for Sam as calmly as possible, since he doesn't seem to be the one to shoot first and ask questions later.

A moment passes and he runs into the room.

"Did you figure it out--," he chokes on his words and stops dead in his tracks, "Gabe?!"

"Samantha!" the shorter man shouts with open arms. 

"Wait? Gabriel? THE Gabriel? As in, Trickster Janitor, Hundreds of Tuesdays, Trap-in-TV-land, but wait, he's really an angel, Gabriel?" 

"Not just any angel, honey buns, an archangel", Gabriel fires off a playful wink.

"Yeah, and Lucifer killed you, that seemed like it was pretty damn permanent," Sam is rightfully untrusting of Gabriel's reappearance.

"I am happy to explain everything, it's not nearly as complicated as what these boys have done or been through."

"Okay," you draw in a breath, "After catching up on the Winchester Gospels, I thought I was stocked up on all the stories I could handle, maybe it's time for all of us to sit back and listen to just one more."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel explains his return and you seek out a midnight snack.
> 
> Also, smut, because you deserve it!

After convincing both Mary and Dean to not grab an angel blade and gank Gabriel where he stands, you find yourself back in the library. Loki, the Trickster and, presumed dead, Archangel of the Lord, Gabriel, attempts to clear up any confusion. That biblically stormy night at the Elysian Fields hotel when he was knifed by his big brother, Lucifer, he was not truly destroyed. As it turns out, his essence and grace was scattered across multiple dimensions.

"Seeing as I am a clever son of a bitch and the smartest Archangel, I had a couple fail safes in place, just in case. This just happens to be the one that panned out."

"So, the box was just a glorified genie lamp?" Dean scrubs his face in his hand.

"That's simplifying it quite a bit, but in a nutshell, the box contained the ingredients for a spell that was bound to eventually be completed as long as I laid a proper trail," he glances over at you, raising an eyebrow, "and it looks like it did the trick!"

"So, the key goes in the lock and as long as she," Sam gestures to you, "is the one who places the key, then, bam, you're back? How do you have the same vessel and what's this about a descendent of Freyja?"

"So many questions, Sammy! Well, seeing that I am a fairly powerful demigod and have, you know, angel mojo, I was basically able to reassemble my form however I wanted. What can I say? I am sentimental and who wouldn't want this body?" he waggles his eyebrows at you. 

He continues, his tone flattens as he rattles off another answer, you can tell he's getting bored, "As far as the your lady-friend here is concerned, she is a distant descendent of Freyja. She had two "legitimate" daughters, but being the goddess of love, she fell for a human man and bore his child in secret. She lived as his wife for as long as she could while the other gods assumed she was searching the the Nine Worlds for her absentee husband. Somehow their great, yet forbidden, love conjured up a magic that transcends time and dimensions. That magic wove itself into the grooves and notches carved by Freyja's human lover. it's basically a big, fat, Norse soap opera and I hitched some of my grace to the box hundreds of years ago, as a bit of an insurance policy."

"So, do you think I have any powers?" you lean in closer to the angel at the table.

His eyes travel down the front of your v-neck and the words stick in his throat.

"Hey, Gabe, can you answer the question or are you gonna just perv on her?" Dean jumps in, always the protective one.

"Powers, right!" he bristles, "I think completing the spell with your touch is about as magical as you get. Basically, you have the blood of both Freyja and her human flowing through you, which completed the circuit, so to speak."

You are, at once, disappointed and relieved. Powers could be exciting but trouble always follows close behind. 

Mary announces she is heading to bed as she gathers up abandoned coffee cups. Sam closes his laptop, stretches his arms with a yawn and heads back towards the dorms.  
"It's like a sleepy human stand-off in here," Gabriel jokes as you and Dean both grow weary.

"You should head to bed," Dean pats your back as he pushes his chair back into the table. 

"I won't be far behind, Dean, I think I will raid the kitchen real quick, I'm in the mood for something sweet."

"Ok, but don't eat all my pie!" adding "and you, Gabe, just don't touch anything in the bunker or I will trap your ass in holy oil."

"Aye-aye, Dean-o!" Gabriel salutes.

You pad into the kitchen and can feel Gabriel's presence behind you as you poke around in the fridge. 

"What would you like, sugar?"

"Well, all there is here is apple pie and some sort of homemade granola bars that look like bird food." You sigh, pulling the pie from its box.

"Whoa, whoa, I mean it, if you could have any sweet treat in the world right now, what would it be? I will make it happen."

You think for a moment and remember who you're talking to, you weren't sure if he was 100% back to archangel mojo power but it couldn't hurt to see if he could conjure up exactly what you crave.

"Ok there, Mr. Trickster,"

"Call me Gabriel, I like the way my real name sounds when you say it."

"Gabriel," you blush and continue, "my favorite is chocolate, but not just any chocolate. I want chocolate turtle fudge from this little sweet shop in Sedona, Arizona."

You are pleased with yourself and sure that there is no way he could make good on that exact wish. 

"You're downright adorable when you think you are being clever, but I reckon you forget who I am."

He snaps his fingers and in a flash there is a huge tray of not only the chocolate turtle fudge but your second favorite flavor, amaretto. 

"How did you--" he places a small piece in your mouth before you can finish your thought and the sense memory of your last hunt in Sedona, years ago, comes flooding back. This is not just any fudge, this is THE fudge.

As if reading your mind, he leans down and whispers in your ear "I told you I could make it happen."

His body is now inches from yours and you can feel the tension and electricity build between you. You have felt this strange pull to him since he first popped into your world like a jack-in-the box on steroids. He reaches for another piece of fudge for each of you. You both take a bite and moan in unison. Laughter erupts between you, and Gabriel runs his thumb over your bottom lip, wiping away a stray bit of chocolate and bringing it to his own lips. 

"I think I may have found someone who loves sweets almost as much as I do," he gently touches the side of your face.

Without even thinking, you wrap your arms around his waist as if you had done it a thousand times before. You gaze into his amber honey eyes and in one motion he scoops his hand around the nape of your neck, dipping you a little as his lips seek yours. The heat of his tongue flickers across his lips seeking entrance further with each kiss. The rich taste of chocolate just mixes with whatever magic he possesses in that talented mouth of his. You feel dampness pooling at your center and your knees weaken with every touch. 

He lifts you up on the kitchen counter with no hint of effort on his part, never breaking the sweet and hungry kisses. You come up for air and start to play with the buttons on his shirt and he lifts the hem of your shirt to run his warm hands over your skin. You imagine those hands wandering further south and greedily wrap your legs around his waist to feel his erection straining against the fabric of his jeans. His busy hands pull off your shirt and toss it across the kitchen. You rut against him, desperately seeking friction.

"I haven't been a teenager in, well, literally eternity, but you keep doing that and I am going to come way sooner than I want to, gumdrop," he huffs, between bruising kisses he leaves on your shoulders and collarbone.

"Let's move to my room, then," you start to slide off the counter and with a snap you two are now alone in your stark, bunker dorm room.

"Ok, this needs a little work, but I'd love to flex my skills a little and spruce the place up, if you don't mind," he gives you a wink, stretching his hands together in front of him. 

"Just don't take too long," you pout as you lazily slide your jeans down to the floor. Not so accidentally making sure to really bend over in the process to make sure he gets a good view of your red, lace trimmed panties that match your bra (thank whatever deity, I guess Freyja, that you actually match today).

He surprises you with a firm, but welcome slap on the ass that leaves just the right sting and your panties soak with your desire for him.

A snap and a flick of the wrist later and your room has some style and creature comforts. The bed is now a queen instead of a full and is covered in a mix of satin and silk bedding in rich golden, metallic tones. The small dresser has grown into a large vanity now covered in lit, ivory colored candles and a vase of calla lilies, your favorite. 

"Are you trying to seduce me, angel?"

"I could ask the same of you, lollipop. Prancing around in that red underwear, you look good enough to eat."

"Prove it," you jump in the bed that is now so plush and sinfully comfortable.

You lay back and watch as he sheds his shirt and jeans, tossing them carelessly over his shoulder. His red, silk boxers are kind of silly, yet sexy and charming (you are sensing a theme with this man, god, angel). He crawls on the bed and hovers over your body, just drinking you in with his eyes, his perfect eyes.

"You are remarkable and scrumptious," he whispers as he plants a kiss on your forehead, not a hint of snark to be found in his words.

"You barely know me, we just met," you wrap your hands under his arms and around his toned back.

"My grace allows me to see so much of you, I see your fierce strength, your quick mind and the heart of a woman who hasn't abandoned all hope for the life she read of in fairy tales." 

His kisses gently roam back to your lips and he nips down your neck and shoulders pulling one bra strap down your shoulder with his teeth. 

"I like to think I am a little more pragmatic than all that," and in a flash, your bra is gone.

"Sorry, sweet tart, I've never been a fan of unhooking them the old fashioned way," he snakes his hand to the small of your back and sucks a tender nipple into his mouth while kneading and teasing the other with his hand.

"You were saying," you gasp as he moves down your body, dipping his tongue in your navel and resting a hand on the soft part of your lower belly.

He looks up at you, an archangel pleading to mortal hunter, "Let me be your prince for at least tonight and I will do everything to earn your trust and I hope, even more. Will you be my fair maiden, tonight?" 

Somehow, the words that would seem cheap from any other lover shine differently when uttered by Gabriel. Part of you feels like you shouldn't trust a man who has spent a great part of his existence as a trickster, but something about him helps you genuinely let go for the first time in your life.

Before you can speak, he hooks his fingers into the waist of your panties and spirits them quickly away to the growing pile of clothing. He slides an agile finger within your folds and strokes your warm, dripping channel. He quickly adds another finger, pumping as his mouth envelopes your clit. He sucks, licks and hums as he devours you. You bury your hands in his golden brown hair, encouraging his movements, but not needing to "direct" him as you had with your former lovers.

He knows your body as well, if not better, than you do and that knowledge is quickly building the tension in your core. A flood of dizzying pleasure washes over you as he brings you to your climax not once, but twice. You pull him up to meet your lips, not caring that his chin is slick with your wetness. You feel a primal possessiveness when you taste yourself on his tongue. "Mine," you growl as you catch his lower lip between your teeth and firmly grip his throbbing cock.

You push him to his back, "I like this "take charge" attitude of yours," he inhales quickly as you free him from his boxers and work a bead of pre-come over his shaft. You look him straight in the eyes as you head south to return the favor of amazing oral sex.

He stops you, "Hey, jelly bean! I really, and I mean, REALLY am looking forward to your pretty mouth stretched around me like that," he whimpers, "but right now, I want to press against every part of you, kiss you and make love to you, prove to you that I mean everything I say to you," he utters in earnest, but with a look of apprehension. 

"Of course, my angel prince," you smile, moving up his body and kissing him deeply, "as long as I'm on top!" 

You settle over him, guiding his length and teasing your still sensitive clit as you brush him closer to your dripping entrance. You sink on to him, inch by inch and he slowly fills you up. You rock leisurely, his hands digging into your hips as you adjust to his size and find a rhythm. 

"You are so fucking tight," he moans as he stretches your walls with each long, slow plunge. 

Your pace is steady, but not rushed. Your whole body is flush with pleasure and lust, your skin glowing from within and gently lit by the dripping candles. You run your hands along Gabriel's torso as you continue the ride of your life. His body is defined and strong, but with a hint of softness that you look forward to cuddling.

Gabriel wraps his arms around your back, pulling you close and gently nipping at your shoulder. You tease him and buck your hips almost completely off, leaving just the tip begging for re-entry. He grabs a handful of your hair and splays his hand over your back, gaining leverage, rolling you over and thrusting to the hilt in one motion. 

You hook your heel around his lower back as your hands grasp the silky, smooth sheets. You feel a strange, but not unwelcome sensation brushing steadily at your clit. Gabriel's hands are now intertwined with yours above your head and you feel him begin pulse as your walls clench around him. You both finally reach the crest together and you cry out for one another. You catch a flash of light and hear the sound of light bulbs popping throughout the bunker. 

Gabriel rolls off if you and his softening cock leaves you empty. You curl up against his side, too well-fucked to care how sticky you both are. 

"Let me take care of this real quick, candy button", he snaps once and both of you are clean and a new set of cool, cotton sheets adorns the bed. 

You jolt upright when you hear loud steps coming down the hall followed by a "What the hell?" 

Gabriel snaps again and the lightbulbs are fixed, garnering noises of frustration and confusion from the older Winchester. "Gabe!" he shouts, "What's your game, here?"

You bring you finger to your lips, not wanting him to answer. Not that you are ashamed of Gabriel or what you have done, but you aren't quite ready to sing it from the hilltops. 

You hear the footfalls stop at your door and Dean knocks and asks if you are okay.

"Yeah, just trying to sleep, Dean," you fib as Gabriel playfully squeezes your hip.

"Alright, um, I guess let us know if Gabe bothers you or anything," Dean waits for your reply.

You open your mouth to answer only to be cut off by your angel, "Don't worry, Dean-bean, she will."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That fudge shop is real and if you ever find yourself in Sedona, it is not to be missed!


	3. Chapter 3

"Gabe!" Dean pounds on the door, "Zap your ass out here, now!"

You hear another pair of footsteps coming down the hall, "What the hell is going on, Dean?" Sam sounds like he just finally got to sleep and is not thrilled to be awake.

"She's in there with the freakin' angel, that's what the hell is going on." 

"Oh," Sam pauses for a beat, "Oh, oh, like "with" Gabe?"

"Yeah, exactly", Dean scoffs.

"Give us a second, guys, just gotta pause the show we are watching," you attempt to save the situation and silently mouth "fix this" indicating Gabriel while twirling your finger in a circle. 

Another snap of his deft fingers and the two of you are dressed, the room is austere as it was before Gabriel redecorated and your laptop is open on the end of the bed. It is paused in the middle of an episode of 'Stranger Things' and you both sit at the head of the bed.

"Come i-i-i-nnn!" Gabriel sings as he uses his mojo to unlock and open the door.

Dean has his hand over his eyes, "are you decent?"

"Of course we are," you are a terrible actor, "just binging on Netflix, I couldn't sleep."

"Sure you are," Dean does not buy it, "I know all about kids these days with their Netlix and their chill!" 

You double over in laughter at Dean acting like a watchful, if not out-of-touch, father. Sam just leans against the door frame and his eyes go to puppy dog mode. He looks exhausted with a hint of sadness.

"First, I'm older than you and second, I like to think that I still have the right to some privacy despite being back in your lives. We're not kids anymore."

"Can I talk you you," Dean attempts to calm himself "without HIM in the room?" Dean flippantly gestures towards Gabriel.

"Hey, it's cool, I'll just go explore the bunker," Gabriel heads towards the door.  
"I don't think so, buddy, why don't you zap yourself to the top of a mountain or something." Dean grabs Gabriel by the wrist.

"I would, if I could, bucko. Unfortunately, while I can do some tricks and conjuring, I don't have my full-on angel powers back and can only really zap myself around within the bunker."

"Well," Dean pinches between his eyebrows "Just go sit in the library and don't move, okay? Can you keep an eye on him, Sammy?"

"Sure, Dean, because I was hoping for some middle of the night angel babysitting," Sam's words dripping in sarcasm.

Dean sits down on the end of your bed and runs a hand over the back of his neck as Sam leaves the room. Gabriel gives you a wink and zaps himself to the library.

"Well, you got me, Dean, tell me what's on your mind."

"I just want to be clear that I don't think this is a great idea. The whole thing with you and Gabe."

"I wouldn't call it a "thing", Dean," you lie.

"Come on! I've never known you to do subtle, it's pretty obvious. Plus, I know that those lightbulbs didn't pop because the two of you were watching Netflix."

"Well, maybe. It's all happening quickly, but at this point in my life, if I find something good, I guess I have to seize the opportunity."

"I understand, but I still am not crazy about you shacking up with an Archangel. I mean, I am no model for healthy relationships, but I'd hate for you to get hurt or killed. We just go you back and maybe I am being selfish--I don't know."

"Look at it this way, Dean, I could get my heart broken by anyone regardless of their power, immortality or lack there of. And since when have I really ever been afraid of dying? I've been hunting mostly solo for years."

You scoot sit next to Dean and give him a sisterly side hug and he adjusts and wraps you in a big bear hug. It's like he is trying to shield you from the world all on his own. It's nice to feel like you have a family again, you've been on your own for too long.

"Just try to be safe, alright? Also, let Sam and me know if you are in trouble or Gabe isn't treating you right or anything really."

"Got it, brother, and hey, I bet as long as Gabe is around you will never run out of pie!" you tease.

"I admit that sounds awesome and I am going to hold to to that. But, seriously, even after all these years, I consider you family, I won't ever stop worrying about you."

"This heart to heart is swell and all, but it's a total chick flick moment. Can Gabriel come back or is he still in time-out in the library?" You ask and Dean scowls a little.

"I guess we're done here, so-um, good talk--by the way, can you ask Gabe to maybe ward the room with some soundproofing?"

"Oh, God, I'm so sorry, Dean, I will see what we can do about that!" the both of you turn bright red and Dean can't run out of the room fast enough.

You stand up to head out to the library to see Gabriel, only for him to appear suddenly in the doorway.

"Hey, sugarplum, did you miss me?" he waggles his eyebrows and wraps his arms around your waist.

"Nah, kind of needed a break from you," you tease "don't want too much of a good thing," as you lace your fingers behind his neck.

Sam passes by just as Gabriel magics the door closed and you swear you see him blush, you hope that your angel didn't kiss and tell when he was in the library with him.

"Well, I for one, was going crazy out there without you. I thought maybe Dean was confessing his love to you and would steal you away in that gas-guzzling monstrosity he calls a car, then I'd be stuck with Samsquatch out there."

"You mean you didn't listen in on us?" you chuckle with a little surprise.

"Hey, I could have, but I didn't. I know I have a history and reputation for deception but I respect your boundaries and whatever Dean said obviously didn't make you up and leave or try to banish me, so I count that as a win." 

"I appreciate that, Gabriel, I really do. That is actually really," you pause, "sweet," you feel the pressure of happy tears forming in your eyes. This angel has the power to manipulate the world around you and has only used it for your benefit and not to hurt you.

"Hey, hey, Kit Kat," he wipes away your tears with his thumbs as he puts his hands gently on either side of your face.

"You're going to run out of nicknames for me," you smile,

"Eventually, but I can always just call you sugar-butt," he reaches down and squeezes your ass.

"You know, we never really got to cuddle after sex, I will admit that's one of my favorite things," you reach down and grab his butt in return.

"Well," he looks up in thought, "technically it's not really after-sex cuddles at this point, I mean I think too much time has passed."

"Let me run to the washroom and why don't you doll up this room again and maybe we can get to solving this dilemma," you turn on your heel towards the door. 

"I think I can manage that," he smirks as you quickly head out to the hallway.

"Oh and add some soundproofing while you are at it," you yell over your shoulder.

The next thing you know, you are face to chest with Sam, again. You don't think you will ever get used to him being so tall. 

"Whoa," he clutches your shoulders making sure you don't fall backwards from the unexpected impact.

"Sorry, didn't expect a traffic jam in the hallway" you step back.

"Yeah," he points towards the library, "I just forgot my laptop out there, I just want to check out a couple leads since I am awake again and it's hard to get back to sleep, you know?"

He doesn't mean it in an accusatory way, but you sure feel guilty as hell for waking him and Dean up with your angel sex.

"Sorry, again, Sam, it won't happen again."

"It won't?" he looks incredulous.

"I mean, being disruptive and loud--is this not the most awkward conversation ever?"

"Pretty much," he runs a hand through his hair and looks to the side "good night."

"Yeah, 'night, Sam".

You hurry to the washroom, take care of your mere mortal needs and nighttime routine.

You head back into the room to find that Gabriel has gone above and beyond his previous redecorating. 

The room is now filled with tapestries and looks like the inside of a big tent that one might see in an old Arabian movie. There are lush fabrics draped throughout the room and big cushy pillows everywhere. Lanterns softly light the space and you spot your angel sprawled out in a pile of silk pillows. With a snap, you are suddenly wearing new cloths, wait a costume? You spin to look at your clothing to realize you are literally dressed like Princess Jasmine from Aladdin. 

"I told you that I was going to treat you like a princess," he pulls you down into the pile of pillows. 

"Disney, Gabriel? Really?"

"Have you heard the real Grimm fairytales, sugar? I think we should stick to sweet princess stories."

"Well, I suppose, but I think I'd prefer something a little naughtier than G-rated."

"Your wish is my command," he is suddenly dressed like a genie.

"I don't think the genie got with Jasmine," you tease.

"Yeah, but you seem to prefer magic over a boring prince."

"As long as there's no singing, I think that would be a great way to kill the mood."

"Is that your first wish? Remember, you only get three tonight!"

"Well, my first official wish is to be out of this ridiculous costume," truth be told, it was sort of comfortable, but you felt kind of silly wearing it. 

"Wish granted," he snapped and suddenly you are completely exposed.

"Well you should do the same, now I feel silly being the only one naked," you playfully grab one of the pillows in a half-hearted attempt at modesty.

"Ok, that's your second wish," he snaps and he is now wearing nothing but that cheeky smile that melted your heart the moment you met.

"So only one more wish?" you play coy.

"Those are the genie rules," he sighs.

You crawl over him and without a word you begin placing little kisses along his neck and trailing his collarbone down his chest. His frame isn't large, but he is strong and has a perfect combination of hard planes of muscle and softness to snuggle up to. You quickly navigate his torso down to his hips, leaving searing kisses as you tease him.

"Not complaining, but I thought I was the one making your wishes--"

You interrupt him as you gently take the head of his firm cock into your mouth. You work him in further as you glide your hand up and down his shaft while reading his balls with the other. His hand reaches down to stroke your hair and you look up and catch his gaze. You do not break eye contact and it is driving Gabriel crazy to watch you like this, on your knees and ass in the air while you suck and lick at him like he is the best thing you've ever tasted. 

Before you is an angel totally wrecked. You take him apart piece by piece and even though he is a celestial being, at this moment, he is a man under your spell. You slowly remove your mouth while still keeping a steady pace with your hand.

"Where would you like to come, angel?"

"Now who is granting wishes here?" he moans and then pauses, in thought.

"Well?" you smirk as you squeeze the base of his cock.

"Inside you, please," an archangel is putty in your hands.

You climb up and steady your palms on his shoulders. He runs his hands up and down your back and grips your hips as you sink onto him in one swift motion. You both groan deeply as your bodies slot together. You feel the perfect drag against your walls as you ride him at an even but leisurely pace. Slowly you sense a gentle build and ghost of friction around your clit. You are about to speak but Gabriel can read the question in your eyes.

"That's--my--grace", he stutters between thrusts.

"Oh...oh!" you manage to squeak out in realization, you can talk about it later.

You feel a fire building in your core as your body reaches the edge of your orgasm. As you ride out each little explosion, your pace quickens and your walls squeeze him tightly and bringing him to completion as he whispers desperately in a language you do not understand.

"So do I get that wish now?" you breathlessly ask as you lean your forehead against his, both slick with sweat and faces flushed.

"Of course, but even though I'm an archangel, I think even I need a minute to recover."

"I was actually hoping for those cuddles we talked about," you nuzzle him as you roll onto your side.

"That, I can do, princess," 

He cleans you both up and drapes you in the softest blanket in existence. You curl up with your back to him, inviting him to be the "big spoon" as you yawn and feel your eyelids grow heavy. He fits himself behind you, brushes your hair from your shoulder and places a sweet kiss at the crook of your neck. 

"Wish granted," he whispers as you finally fade from consciousness.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life in the bunker continues. Gabriel encourages a night on the town for you and a friend. 
> 
> Before you go out, you do need a shower, though.

A few weeks pass and life has settled into somewhat of a routine. Well, as routine as life is living in a bunker with the Winchesters and a broken Archangel can be. Dean and Mary tend to go on most of the salt & burns together and are in and out of the bunker with great frequency.

You and Sam stick around the library and archives, doing research and just devouring the knowledge that surrounds you. You also provide support for other hunters by posing as law enforcement and manning the phones. Gabriel even does his part as he is pretty great at impersonations. In between work, you share meals and sometimes a Netflix binge with your long lost surrogate family. You also get to fall asleep in Gabriel's arms every night.

You finally get to meet the infamous angel, Castiel. He tends to leave as swiftly as he arrives and spends most time helping outside the bunker or doing whatever it is angels do in and out of heaven. He's a little awkward, but polite with you and knows that the Winchesters trust you so he is slowly learning to do the same. The seraph is happy that his big brother is back and even seems to take some pride in the fact that Gabriel is apparently smitten with you. He is using his grace to help return your angel to full power but it's taking more time than Gabriel has patience for.

You sit in the library across from Sam, paging through old texts and monitoring the web for leads. You try to slyly eavesdrop on Castiel and your angel in the next room.

"Really, little brother?" Gabriel's reply slightly obscured by the lollipop in his cheek.

"Until you are fully restored, It is unwise for you to leave the bunker. Any weakness you have may be exploited and you could end up dead. Permanently this time."

"Alright, I guess I just have a little cabin fever and would love to take my girl around the world, she deserves everything. You, of all angels, should understand what it's like to love humanity."

Your cheeks flush as you listen to Gabriel talk about you with such unabashed devotion. Sure, you've had your fair share of lovers, but never anyone who offered you the world, let alone someone who could actually back up his promises.

"Let's take this one day at a time, brother. Just wait until your wings are fully restored. You are essentially a fledgling, Gabriel," Castiel tries to placate the angel that really doesn't want to be tied down in one spot.

You hear the soft rustle of Castiel leaving the bunker.

Gabriel comes up behind you and places a soft kiss behind your ear. You swear you can feel Sam rolling his eyes at the gesture as Gabriel slides himself onto the table and sits cross legged looking back and forth we between you and Sam.

"What's the matter, Sammich?" Gabriel teases.

"Nothing, just busy right now," Sam buries his nose back in his book.

You smile at Gabriel and continue investigating a possible lead on a pack of werewolves in western North Dakota.

"You two are both way too pretty to be stuck inside with dusty old books day after day. I mean who doesn't have a hot librarian fantasy, but when is the last time either of you got some fresh air or went outside for a reason beyond picking up supplies?"

"I'm really fine," Sam answers and you swear you see a hint of a blush in his cheeks.

You think it's kind of cute when Gabriel, the relentless flirt he is, gets Sam flustered.

"We have been at it for days, it might be good to get out for while. Even some diner food would be nice, I think my eyes might actually go crossed if I keep staring at this screen," you rub your eyes and stretch your weary muscles.

"I guess we deserve a little break, cases aren't exactly pouring in. There's not much in town but maybe we could all hit up that new bar in Wichita? It's a little drive but I heard their food is good. Hell, maybe catch a movie?" and there is the giant puppy that everyone talks about.

"You sure changed your mind quick," you raise an eyebrow at Sam.

"Once you mentioned it, I realized how little I've gotten out, especially since I haven't been hunting lately. Could be fun, it would be nice to catch up more."

It was nice to see Sam loosen up a bit, he's been waffling between quiet and snarky lately and you figured that was just what his personality has developed into. It seems the idea of going out on the town is just what he needs.

"Then it's settled, I will see who I can dispatch to the possible werewolf case up north and we'll leave this afternoon, then?" you look back and forth at Sam and Gabriel.

"Unfortunately, Dean's feathered boyfriend says I'm not ready to venture into the world safely. Maybe I can talk him into some extra healing sessions, but I'm gonna have to sit this one out." 

"You sure, Gabe?" Sam seems disappointed.

"Yeah, we'll have plenty of chances soon to paint the town red, you kids have a good time."

You get up from your chair and lean over the table to give Gabriel a kiss on the cheek. He quickly turns his head and plants a soft kiss on your lips with just a little tease of his tongue.

"Mmm," you reluctantly pull away "gonna go shower and get changed for this evening."

You head to the showers and start the water, letting it get nice and warm while you undress. You step under the stream and start to lather up your hair. All the while, you have a spark of a naughty thought.

 _I wish Gabriel would join me in here_.

You close your eyes as you rinse the shampoo out and move on to the conditioner you totally stole from Sam. The water drowns out the small flutter you have heard lately when Gabriel materializes and suddenly there is a very naked angel right behind you.

"I heard your prayer," he whispers gruffly in your ear as he wraps one hand dangerously low on your hip and teases your slick breasts with the other.

"I don't pray, I just was thinking of you," you lean into him and can feel he is half hard already. It is a valiant effort to stay upright in your slippery state.

"Well, I guess between our connection and my ever-healing grace, I heard it anyway. It's actually the first prayer I have heard since you unlocked me, now that I think about it."

"Speaking of healing, I overheard Castiel say your wings are growing back."

"They are, they aren't much now, but stronger each day," he grabs your body wash and puff to start soaping your upper body.

"I wish I could see them, feel them," you turn around and run your hands over the muscles of his back, trying to imagine where his wings might connect to his body.

Gabriel pulls back a little and this is the first time you see the smooth, confident and funny angel in such a vulnerable state.

"They are small right now, nothing special and once they are full force it would literally kill you to see them."

"Nothing special," you run your fingers through the strands of his now drenched hair and your hands find their place on the back of his neck, "I wouldn't use that to describe anything about you, and if your full grown wings would kill me, this might be my only chance to see them," you pout a little, knowing he's become a sucker for your adorable pleas these days.

"Those looks you give are going to be the death of me, sugar butt," he presses closer to you and then slides down, dropping to his knees reverently to finish washing your lower half.

He guides you back under the water to rinse off and you work the remaining conditioner from your hair. He trails kisses and licks up your thighs and you nearly lose your balance.

"If you are trying to change the subject from your wings, you are doing a good job, but I haven't forgot--", your words truncated as his tongue darts at your folds. He grips your ass tightly as his mouth goes to work on your aching clit.

You try your best to brace yourself against the smooth tile. Even with an angel, shower sex is truly ridiculous.

You find yourself edging closer and closer to release when Gabriel rises to his feet. In one swift motion, he picks you up and you wrap your body around him, hands woven into his hair and legs encircling his waist. His hard, leaking cock easily slides into your soaked and sensitive pussy. He backs you up to sit on the edge of the sink and continues to rock inside you as your pleasure blooms.

"Close your eyes," he grunts.

"Wha--okay," you comply, maintaining your grip on his hair as his thrusts steadily increase.

Waves of your orgasm start rushing through your body as Gabriel pulses and spills inside you with an erratic snap of his hips.

There is a rapid flash of light that you see as red and pink from the inside of your eyelids, you also hear that familiar lightbulb pop.

"You can open your eyes now."

His wings.

Not the big, scary wings of an archangel, but impressive, nonetheless.

They only span about a foot and a half beyond his frame on each side of his body. The feathers a mix of white and gold with a faint, ethereal fiery glow around the edges. They are fluffy and downy in places, like a bird's wings might be in that adolescent stage.

"You can touch them, I can tell you want to," he smirks at you.

"Beautiful," you hesitantly reach out with your fingertips.

"Aw, you really know how to flatter a girl, but I look like a barnyard chicken," Gabriel jokes, as usual.

"Hardly, they are incredible, I mean it."

You run your hands over the joints where his wings meet his shoulder blades. This elicits a shudder from your angel and you keep navigating, plume by plume.

The feathers are soft and pliant under your touch, but there is a palpable power and energy radiating from these fledgling wings. You run your hands just beneath the wing joints and Gabe flinches away.

"I'm so sorry, did I hurt you?"

"No, it's just super weird," his eyes avoiding yours. You've never seen him so unsure.

"You can tell me, Gabriel."

"So apparently God could be as much of a prankster as me and for some reason outfitted angels with similar anatomy to birds, at least when it comes to wing function and mechanics. I have an oil gland."

"I've definitely seen and heard of weirder things in my life but what purpose does it serve?" you grab him a towel as you wrap yourself in your very own robe that never belonged to a dead guy.

"When I bring my wings into this plane of existence, they behave and need care and grooming. They are new right now so it's not really a necessity but the gland appears when the wings do and it's used to preen them, it's also incredibly sensitive and I'm still buzzing from our awesome bathroom sex," he wags his eyebrows as he wraps the towel around his hips.

"Well, I love them and any time you want to show your wings or let me touch them, I will be happy to oblige."

You work your way behind him and press your chest to his back and he melts against you. You gently nuzzle into the feathers and breathe in a mix of a soft, new, earthy smell and the eternal smell of mischief that is your angel.

Yes, mischief has a smell. It smells like candy and fireworks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: Some time out of the bunker, Gabriel hears some unexpected prayers and confessions are made all around.


	5. Update!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A quick note to my readers! (I know a couple of you are enjoying this)

I'm sort of fiddling with how this story is formatted, but decided that "part one" is complete.

Please move on to part two of the story! There is more character background coming in the first chapter but we will get, fluffy, smutty and a little freaky before long!


End file.
